Broken Promises
by Ryuuatsu
Summary: Gunther has always done everything he can to protect his little brother, but after he makes a rash decision when Michael is sent to the front lines, he has to face the reality that he can't save him from everything. Oneshot.


Before leaving home, a hundred, thousand different scenarios of what could happen in the war ran through Gunther's head, a million 'what-ifs'. None of them ended with Michael and him standing outside on a farm in France, with their own allies pointing guns at them.

Gunther was the older brother. His duty was to protect Michael no matter what. Throughout their childhoods, Gunther always gave Michael a shoulder to lean on, always protected him from any danger, fought off any bully. When Michael was five, Gunther pulled him out of the creek running through their town after he fell in, thrashing and calling out desperately for help. Gunther carefully wrapped him in his jacket and walked him home, as Michael still shook and sobbed, clinging to his brother.

When Michael was eleven, Gunther found him out in the woods late one night after he ran off during an argument. Gunther and his parents searched for Michael for almost an hour, their mother gradually becoming more hysterical as time went on. Gunther discovered him sitting quietly behind a fallen tree. Michael's eyes were wide and terrified, but he kept repeating stubbornly that he wasn't scared over and over again. Michael tried his best to be tough, he always did. But Gunther still came to his rescue whenever necessary.

When Michael was fourteen, he was being sent off to the front lines of World War One, while Gunther was left behind to care for the only British soldiers that were spared: the horses. Gunther felt nauseous just at the thought. He felt anxious. He couldn't focus on the horses, he couldn't focus on his duties, all he could focus on was his brother going off to the front lines, his precious little brother who always tried to act tougher than he really was, too young to even have a girlfriend, much less die in a war.

Gunther's duty was always to protect Michael. He wasn't going to let anything stop him from doing that, not even a war.

Taking the horses and riding off to save Michael was terrifying, but not nearly as much as the thought of letting him die. If they didn't move fast enough, or Michael tried to fight him off, Gunther knew they'd both be shot right there on the spot, but somehow it didn't happen. The soldiers simply watched them ride away, standing there in disorganized lines, still trying to make sense of things.

They planned to stay in the windmill on the farm they came across to rest up, then start off for Italy as possible. Italy meant neutrality. Italy meant Michael would be safe. Gunther tried to relax, telling himself over and over that they'd make it.

But Gunther couldn't save Michael from everything. He couldn't save him from this.

They tried to hide when they heard the vehicles pulling up outside the windmill, but there was nowhere to go, and no way to properly explain why they ended up there. It was a promise that led them there: Gunther's promise to their mother to protect Michael in the war, and his own unspoken promise to Michael to protect him forever. When their base camp officer asked if they made a mistake, that's all Gunther could tell him. "A promise."

The soldiers solemnly led the two out of the windmill, prepared to carry out the execution in the light of the motorcycle headlights. Gunther wondered if Michael really was as tough as he acted, and could've handled the front lines like he wanted to. Maybe Gunther only dragged him to his death instead of saving him. Gunther tried to stay calm, but he couldn't stop trembling.

Michael didn't make eye contact with Gunther. He was quiet and distant, staring ahead blankly as they stood outside the windmill. He had a look of complete concentration, like he was mentally cutting all his ties to life and preparing himself for whatever came after.

The rifles were raised at them and carefully aimed. Gunther's heart was pounding, but he tried to keep a calm façade, not that Michael was looking over to see it. Michael had his eyes closed, but not forcefully squeezed shut. He looked calm. He looked peaceful. He looked like a child.

"I love you, Mic—"

The shots echoed over the French countryside, bouncing off the dark hills for a long moment. The windmill kept turning, the cool breeze still blowing gently, lightly rustling the tall grasses and the leaves of the trees. The soldiers turned and promptly left, the base camp officer starting on his second cigarette of the night with an ashen face. "A promise..." He muttered softly as he got back on his motorcycle and drove back to the war.

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><p><strong>AN:** Uhhh...hi! This is the first serious fanfic I've ever written, so it was quite the adventure. I tried to research some things, but apparently it was pretty rare for the Germans to execute deserters in WW1 so I didn't really find anything. If you see any inaccuracies, please let me know so I can fix them! I've really wanted to write fic of these two since I saw the movie, so I ignored that I suck at writing fanfiction and historical stuff and wrote it anyway, haha.

Reviews are wonderful, beautiful, glorious things. I'll love you forever if you leave one. But either way, thanks a bunch for reading!


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